Chapter 2

The mansion sat like a secret carved into the hillside, half-swallowed by the fog that clung to the trees like a living thing. Its windows glowed with a soft, golden pulse, warm, inviting, and yet somehow ominous. It wasn’t just a building. It was a presence. Watching.

Chloe stood at the foot of the long, winding stone driveway, her breath caught somewhere between awe and anxiety. The iron gates had closed behind her the moment she passed through them silently, without a creak or warning. A chill moved down her spine as if the air itself had changed the moment she entered the estate grounds.

She adjusted the hem of her black dress, the one she saved for job interviews and funerals. Tight in the right places, modest where it needed to be, but now it felt flimsy and insubstantial against the weight of the place. The mansion was beautiful, yes but it radiated power, age, secrecy. Her heels clicked against the stone path as she walked, each step louder than the last in the thick silence.

Before she could reach the door or lift her hand to knock, it swung open.

A woman stood in the doorway. She wore a deep burgundy gown, simple but elegant. Her skin was pale and smooth, her posture perfect, her eyes assessing. But it was her smile that made Chloe’s pulse skip, a slight, knowing curve of the lips that suggested secrets and superiority.

“How may I help you?” the woman asked, voice low and musical.

Chloe swallowed, fumbling slightly as she held out a sleek black card. “I… I was sent by a job agency”.

The woman took the card without looking at it. Her smile deepened just slightly, as though amused by something Chloe couldn’t see. “Yes. You may come in.”

The words felt final. Not inviting. Not warm. Just… absolute.

Chloe hesitated, but stepped inside.

The air was warmer than she expected scented with something rich and elusive: spice, amber, heat. Shadows clung to the corners of the high-ceilinged foyer, and the only light came from sconces along the walls, their flames flickering unnaturally steady.

“I—um. Who exactly hired me?” Chloe asked as she followed the woman deeper into the mansion.

The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she led Chloe down a long corridor lined with portraits. None of the faces were familiar. Most were blurred or darkened by age. It was impossible to tell whether they were old photographs or oil paintings that had melted in the humidity of time. Every few feet, the candlelight seemed to flicker just slightly, as though responding to Chloe’s unease.

At the end of the hall, the woman pushed open two large doors, revealing a chamber lit only by candles. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling to the floor, swallowing sound. In the center of the room, facing away from the door, sat a high-backed leather chair.

“The master will see you now,” the woman said, then turned to Chloe. “Remove your shoes. And your phone. Leave them at the door.”

Chloe blinked. “Why?”

“Because he prefers it that way.”

There was something final in her tone. No room for debate. No offer of reassurance.

Chloe hesitated, but slowly bent to remove her shoes. The marble floor was cool under her feet. She set her phone gently on the small wooden table beside the door, half-expecting an alarm to go off the moment she let go of it.

The woman nodded once and stepped back, closing the doors behind her with a quiet click.

Now Chloe was alone.

She took a step forward. Then another.

Her heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears. There was something strange about the room. The silence wasn’t empty, it was full. Heavy. Like the air itself held its breath.

The chair turned slowly.

She tensed. She expected an older man maybe some eccentric billionaire, or a sleazy business mogul. She was ready for smugness, or condescension.

But she wasn’t ready for him.

The man in the chair stood with quiet confidence. He was tall, lean, dressed in a black shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His skin was pale but warm, his hair dark and perfectly tousled. His eyes, God, his eyes were darker than night, but not empty. They glowed, faintly, like fire smoldering beneath obsidian.

“Chloe Bennett,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “You came.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled gently. “You left your information with the person who referred you, did you not?”

She paused. “I guess so… yeah. I just… didn’t think it would be so direct.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, stepping down from the dais where the chair sat.

She folded her arms, suddenly defensive. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I need the money.”

“Choice is a strange thing,” he said, walking toward her with deliberate slowness. He moved like a shadow, like smoke, like a whisper of wind through silk. “Most people don’t recognize it when it’s standing right in front of them.”

She fought the urge to step back. “What is this job, exactly?”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stopped just in front of her. Close enough for her to feel his presence like a heat. He raised something in his hand, a silk blindfold, black and soft, held between two long fingers.

“Do you trust me, Chloe?” he asked.

She gave a short, incredulous laugh. “I don’t even know you.”

“That’s the best time to trust someone,” he murmured, voice close to her ear now. “No past. No baggage. No expectations. Just… sensation.”

She could feel his breath on her neck. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t even neutral. It was warm. Alive. Electric.

“I… I don’t know about this,” she said, her voice quieter than before.

“If you want to leave,” he said, “you can. The gates will open. No one will stop you. And in an hour, you won’t remember any of this.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was still soft, but now it carried something weightier, certainty. Power. “Or… you can stay. And learn what it means to be truly seen. Truly… felt.”

A silence stretched between them, crackling with possibility.

Every rational part of her mind screamed at her to run. To grab her phone. To bolt. But her feet stayed planted. Her breath stayed shallow. Her body… leaned slightly forward.

She wasn’t sure why.

She wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or insanity or something far older, far deeper.

But she nodded.

Slowly, quietly.

She nodded.